Protect and Guard
by JuniperGentle
Summary: Waking in a strange room in a strange house has never been on Ryuga's list of things he wanted to experience. Certainly not when he is this badly injured - and not when he has no idea who is looking after him. Set sort of post-4D, a little experimental, now complete.
1. Prologue

_Enjoy this, and please review it at the end, because I haven't really done one like this before and the idea came out of nowhere. I know I said I'd write With Ice In His Veins next, but that one is being a pain and this... um, wasn't. _

_Plus, it's in third-person present tense for the first time in my writing. So please tell me how it works out. I want to write stories that people enjoy reading, but I can't do that without feedback._

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**Protect and Guard**

**Prologue**

The world is grey and formless, and he drifts through it, wondering if this is death, and if it is, what he did to deserve something this... boring.

_L-Drago?_ He calls softly for his dragon, but there is no answer. _L-Drago? Where are you? Where am I?_

He refuses to even consider the concept of fear. After all, there is nothing here that could hurt him – there's nothing here at all. It's quite a new concept for him, but it's manageable. He's still here, isn't he?

Isn't he?


	2. Protector

_Two chapters uploaded together purely because the prologue is so short..._

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**Protector**

"Good afternoon," says a soft voice. It seems to be very close by, possibly even right next to the bed. "Glad to see you've made it back to us."

Ryuga's eyes snap open and he sits bolt upright ready for a fight. Then every single muscle in his body screams with pain and he ends up curled in an awkward ball of limbs, trying to contain the agony.

"Breathe," the voice orders curtly. "Breathe through the pain or you'll pass out."

It is one of the most difficult instructions he has ever had to follow, but he manages it somehow. The pain doesn't exactly recede, but it crests in a wave and falls before returning with the next intake of breath. At least he _can_ breathe, though.

"Wh-where am I?" He can't uncurl from the position he's in – it's just too painful.

"That doesn't matter. You're safe – no-one can hurt you here."

Why does that matter? No, that wasn't the right question to ask. Why does it matter _so much? _What could possibly have happened to him, the Dragon Emperor of Destruction, that would mean he had to be put somewhere safe where no-one could touch him?

"You've been very badly injured," the voice says, and a hand brushes against what he now recognises not as clothing but bandages that wrap around his arms. "You were brought here to recover. I was put in charge of looking after you."

Oh. Is he in some kind of hospital, then? No, the room is too small and dark for that. His sight is jagged with pain, but he can just about make out a window on the other side of the room, covered by thick, dark curtains. From around the edges, golden light spills – it must be the middle of the day. No hospital he knows of has curtains that thick, or keeps them closed beyond the dawn. If he _is_ in a hospital, it wouldn't matter, though. He could get out of there in less time than it took to turn around.

Except at the moment, turning around would require standing up, which hurts so badly that he can't even start to contemplate doing it.

"Careful," the voice warns, and then a lamp flickers on next to Ryuga's head. After a moment of screwing his eyes shut against the glare, Ryuga's vision adjusts, and he sees the owner of the voice for the first time.

Ryuga's first thought is that he – for it is a he – looks more than a bit like Tsubasa, though why that half-powered little bird-brain should come to mind he has no idea. The man has long, silvery-white hair that falls down his back, straight as a poker, so that might be it - but it's loose rather than held with that strange, golden clip that Tsubasa has. He's also much older than Tsubasa, probably in his late twenties, and wearing black trousers with a red shirt. The top button of his shirt is undone, and Ryuga doesn't know why this bothers him, but it does.

"You've been very badly hurt," the man repeats. "You probably won't be able to stand for a little while, maybe two days. The bones in your right leg were completely shattered."

Ryuga, who hasn't really been listening because he was too preoccupied asking his body what _it_ thinks his estimated recovery time should be, suddenly realises what the man just said. "A couple of _days?"_

The man smiles, and to Ryuga's shock he realises that the man's canine teeth are as sharp and fang-like as his own. "Oh don't worry, Ryuga. I know all about how your dragon helps you heal. He's done it a lot, hasn't he?"

Ryuga avoids the man's eye. It isn't something he wants to talk about.

"You've been sleeping for several days," the man tells him. "Most of your lesser wounds have healed already, but the major ones..." His left hand brushes against a bandage Ryuga has only just noticed wrapped around his head, whilst his right drifts to the one that covers the whole of Ryuga's left arm. "They'll take a while longer. Trust me, Ryuga, I will do everything I can to help you back to full strength."

Ryuga rolls his eyes at the ridiculous statement – since when has he needed _help?_ - and then winces as the slight movement aggravates a building headache. Is there any part of his body that doesn't hurt? Experimentally, he tries to move out of the foetal position that he's curled into, but he can barely straighten his spine before he has to stop, biting down on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from showing the pain on his face. If this is how he is when he's already half-healed, then what must he have been like when he arrived here? Wherever here is.

He tries to move his head a tiny bit to see a little more of the room (surely that can't be too much to ask from his battered body?) and just about manages to make out what looks like a bookcase on the far side of the room. It's very full. Huh. So he's in the care of a reader, is he? Just his luck – he's never been fond of reading. There's no pictures on the wall, and much to his relief there are also no mirrors. Ryuga _hates_ mirrors, the sight of his own reflection. Especially when he's wounded, like now.

Ryuga glances back at the man, who is just getting to his feet, and takes another good look at his face. Under narrow, whitish eyebrows, the man's eyes are as gold as Ryuga's own, but they are strange. As he moves his head, turning away from Ryuga and taking a step towards the door, different parts of his eyes catch the light from the lamp and mirror it, making the irises look like some kind of faceted gem, even though they aren't. They can't be.

"I'm sorry..." Ryuga begins, staring at the man's back. "But... who are you?" It's important to him that he knows, because knowledge is power and if there's one thing he needs right now, it is strength.

The man looks back, and shakes his head. "I'm just the one who's been put in charge of you... your legal guardian, if you like. Whatever it is, though, you are perfectly safe here."

"Surely I should know your name, though..." Ryuga says, and then stops when the man turns. His new guardian's strange, faceted eyes are full of light, shining in the darkening room. It is as if a fire has been lit behind them, illuminating them.

"I cannot tell you my real name," his guardian insists, locking gazes with Ryuga and keeping his face in that terrible, solemn expression. "I can't risk it, Ryuga, not after everything I've done to keep you with us."

Is he some kind of secret agent? Ryuga knew that the WBBA employed them – Tsubasa was one, wasn't he? Maybe that was the answer. Maybe he was related to Tsubasa, and didn't want Ryuga to hold it against him. _No, Tsubasa, I am your father... _Why was his mind going on these strange tangents? Definitely the pain causing that. Probably. "Then... can I just have a name to call you?"

The man laughs and the lights go out of his eyes. "I suppose I owe you that much. You may call me Tamotsu."

"Tamotsu," Ryuga repeats quietly. _Tamotsu._


	3. Wounds

**Wounds**

It's several days before he is strong enough to limp down the stairs to the living room. His guardian settles him on the sofa, insisting that Ryuga remain wrapped in the blanket from the bed. Knowing by now that he'll only get ignored if he protests, Ryuga allows his guardian to fuss over him for a while. It's not until his protector is convinced that Ryuga will be comfortable that he takes his own place in the big chair opposite, picks up a book and pulls out his bookmark, settling down to read it. Then, to all extents and purposes, he totally ignores his guest.

Now Ryuga finally has a chance to look around another part of his guardian's house. The living room isn't especially big, but it's furnished beautifully. Somehow, everything has both perfect form and perfect function, and even though he's never been comfortable inside, preferring the openness of outdoor spades, Ryuga finds that he is relaxing more than he has in a long time. His spine clicks as it moulds itself to match the curve of the sofa-arm.

Once more he finds himself wondering how he got himself here. He knows that he's free to go out of the house at any time – Tamotsu himself has told him that, though he hasn't taken advantage of the offer yet – so it's not as if he's been placed under house arrest or anything.

But he _can't_ leave. It's not something stupid like wanting to repay his debt to the man who is caring for him; it's far more simple than that. Ryuga knows he is hurt, and hurt very, very badly. As strange as it is for him, he has no choice but to trust the man who calls himself his guardian. Considering just how much energy it took to get down the stairs even when he was leaning on Tamotsu most of the way, he must have been all but killed by... by whatever it was. All he can see when he tries to look back through his memory is a rising shadow, and then a blank until the blinding white pain that met his awakening.

It will take a lot of time to heal, maybe even weeks, and he still doesn't really know where he is. There's a good chance that he won't be able to look after himself enough if he leaves now – Ryuga is sensible enough to realise this. In order to survive in the wilds as he does, perfect reflexes and speed are required. If he tries to hunt whilst he is injured this badly, then all he will do is end up making himself weaker. It would be dangerous to try to support himself out there. And besides, he's developed a liking for Tamotsu's grilled fish.

Stretching, feeling the cuts and bruises still protesting, Ryuga cranes his neck to look out of the window. To his slight disappointment, there's only the houses on the other side of what seems like a normal, quiet street.

"Where am I?" he asks aloud.

"My house," his guardian answers, without looking up. "You'll be safe enough here."

"You've said that before. Why am I so safe here?"

His guardian shrugs, still not looking up. "I'm the only one who knows that you're here right now."

This doesn't exactly strike Ryuga as the most comforting of phrases. "This had better not be some twisted sort of plot to murder me or anything like that."

Tamotsu's eyes meet his over the top of the book, shocked. "You really don't trust anyone, do you?"

"Why should I? I've survived this long by trusting no-one except me." Ryuga breaks eye-contact and looks up at the ceiling. He is more than shocked to hear Tamotsu laugh.

"I know that much about you already. You're not exactly the easiest of people to get along with." Much to Ryuga's confusion, his guardian is smiling as he says it. "But I guess that's just what you're like."

Ryuga rolls his eyes and closes them, trying to ignore Tamotsu, not that this phases the other man very much. His voice is quiet but serious when he says "You know, some people are actually quite interesting once you get to know them."

Ryuga can't summon the energy to argue the point any further, though that doesn't really matter because when he opens his eyes it's three hours later and his guardian is gone.

Blinking the haze away from his eyes, Ryuga sits up, listening carefully. He can't hear anything that suggests where Tamotsu might be, but the man has the unnerving ability to appear out of nowhere, so that doesn't mean much. Oh well. This might be his best chance to go exploring that he'll get for some time.

Swinging his legs round to place his feet on the floor, he tries to put some weight on his right leg, only to end up nearly breathless from the pain. Okay, then, maybe he'll have to take this even more gently than he first expected.

With the help of the sofa-arm, the wall and a last-minute grab at one of the bookshelves, Ryuga manages to straighten up completely and just about stand on his own two feet. This is horribly embarrassing, and he knows he wouldn't even dream of doing this if Tamotsu was still in the room. How has he become so helpless so quickly? Yes, he is wounded badly, but before this he's always had a well of inner strength to draw on, one which never left, one which warmed him to the core... where was it now? Why can't he sense it any more?

Shaking the miserable thoughts out of his head, Ryuga places one hand against the wall and uses it to counteract the limp as he moves towards the living room door. Surely _walking_ can't be that hard?

He's pleasantly surprised. Whilst it is still ridiculously painful to put his foot flat on the floor (he suspects that some of the muscles around his ankle may be permanently damaged in some way) he can actually walk almost normally if he keeps some of his weight on the wall instead of his right leg. In this rather awkward manner, Ryuga succeeds in reaching the open living room door and stepping out into the hallway.

Of course, he saw this place when Tamotsu helped him limp down the stairs this morning, but he didn't exactly get a good look at it. The hallway is wide but dim, with a set of curtains made from some strange golden material drawn over the door to keep out the glare of the sun. The soft light gives the small space an unexpected warmth. Standing tall and proud by the stairs is a grandfather clock, solemnly swinging its pendulum to and fro. Ryuga has heard this particular clock singing out the hours ever since he arrived in this house, so it's nice to finally know where the thing is.

The door directly opposite him opens into some sort of dining room. There are no curtains over the windows in here, allowing the afternoon sun to gild all the silverware into gold. Yes, silverware. Ryuga has absolutely no idea why, but this huge dining room – probably a dining _hall_ actually – is set out as if for some sort of banquet. But Ryuga hasn't even heard Tamotsu mention anyone else who lives nearby, or anyone else at all actually, so he can't think what his guardian could want with such a large room.

If he squints a bit through the glare, Ryuga can just about make out the garden outside the wide panes of glass. It looks enormous! Yes, the sun is in his eyes, but he can still only just see the hedge at the end and – wait, is that a hammock? Ryuga shakes his head in confusion. What a strange place he is in. Oh well. Maybe he can use the garden to get stronger again, find some way of getting rid of this ridiculous limp.

He suddenly realises that he's been leaning against the door-frame for the past ten minutes just staring as the sunlight glides over the knives, forks and spoons that line up like orderly soldiers marching down the table. His right leg is beginning to protest at being held in one place for too long, and he'll probably fall over if he tries to keep this up much longer. So, with a sigh, he turns and decides to look into the other three rooms he can see branching off the main hallway. Maybe he'll find the kitchen where Tamotsu makes that amazing grilled fish?

The first door he opens, however, isn't the kitchen but the larder. A blast of cold air rushes into Ryuga's face from the storage room and he quickly shuts the door again. It had looked fairly empty inside – maybe Tamotsu had gone off to do some shopping, thinking that Ryuga would still be sleeping on the sofa when he returned. Well, not _this_ Ryuga. He is determined that he will not be helpless any longer, not whilst there is anything he can do about it. Just to prove to himself that he's not helpless, Ryuga pulls open the second door and immediately lets go of the handle, forcing himself to stand alone. To his deep disappointment, it fails, and he has to grab onto the handle again to stop from overbalancing. The room isn't even that interesting – it's the downstairs bathroom, much smaller than its upstairs counterpart. It's always useful to know where it is, though, Ryuga supposes as he pushes open the last of the doors.

Oh, so _this_ is the kitchen. Ryuga is immediately impressed. It's large, though nowhere near the size of that dining room. The worktops are all made of golden stone, whilst the cupboard doors are rich, red wood. It's a very majestic sight, with a table that could probably seat eight right in the middle of the floor, with the left-overs from Tamotsu's lunch scattered across it.

There is, however, still no sign whatsoever of Tamotsu. Taking a chance, Ryuga steps further into the kitchen, using the chairs and worktops to support him as he works his way around to the window. It isn't facing directly into the sun, so he should be able to see something in the distance that might give him a clue as to where he is.

The first thing he sees out of the window is almost exactly what he saw from the living room – a quiet street with houses on either side, though considering that he can see trees and fields in between them, he's not in a town or a city, but in some sort of village. Beyond the trees, however, is something he certainly hadn't been expecting.

Mountains.

_Huge_ mountains, making a long, toothed ridge against the clear sky. They tower up until he actually has to crane his neck to see where they disappear into the high, wispy clouds. There's no mountains this tall that he's heard of, unless he's just really close to them. But even then, he knows that he's never seen this mountain range before. The shapes are too different, the slopes too steep, the crests too strange. He is not in a place he has ever been to before, which means that now Ryuga genuinely has no idea of where he is. If he were to leave now, even if he was fully healed, there would be no chance of him managing to survive out there.

No, it looks like his only option is staying right here with Tamotsu until the other decides to actually tell him where he really is.

By now Ryuga is tired, and just wants to go back to sleep, but that would involve climbing those infernal stairs which he is _really_ not up to right now. Of course, there's always the sofa, but that's not exactly the most comfortable things to sleep on. It'll do in a pinch, though, and it won't be for long, so Ryuga turns away from the beautiful kitchen and starts back on the limping journey to the living room.

He is nearly at the living room door when his right leg suddenly spasms with pain and he has to grab hold of the bottom of the stair bannisters to prevent himself from collapsing. His hands bury themselves in a thick, soft material that is draped over the end-post, material that feels strangely familiar. Pulling himself fully upright, Ryuga stares at the folds of cloth that wash over his fingers.

It _can't_ be. This was destroyed, ripped into shreds by the attack that had nearly destroyed _him._ How... how could his lovely, long, white coat be hanging over the bannister in Tamotsu's house, in perfect repair and as white as the day it was bought? Unless...

Ryuga's breath catches as if he has been punched in the stomach. All of the rips in the coat have been carefully repaired with a fine, near-invisible thread, and it has been washed clean of all its stains of dirt and blood. On top of it, and as carefully repaired and restored as his coat is, is his dragon-headed coronet, shining deep gold in the light filtered through from the door.

Goodness only knows how many hours Tamotsu has spent on this. It is a labour of love above all, and that more than anything is what gets to Ryuga. His guardian hasn't just been trying to fix his wounds. He has been trying to repair his whole self.

Cautious of his various hurts, Ryuga swings the coat around to settle on his shoulders, feeling the familiar weight of it and welcoming it gratefully. Whilst he wouldn't say that he trusts Tamotsu – the guy is as mysterious as they came, and Ryuga still doesn't know exactly where he is – the coat weighs softly around him and his coronet is solid in his right hand, and if Tamotsu is prepared to go to such lengths for him then he can't be all that bad. Perhaps this was what his guardian had meant earlier by "_some people are quite interesting once you get to know them_". Tamotsu was interesting, certainly.

Ryuga is not certain how he manages to get back to the sofa, but when he next notices his surroundings, that is where he is, sitting facing the chair in which his guardian had been sitting earlier. His right leg is bitterly protesting the amount of stress that he has just put it through, though Ryuga ignores it as he usually does (he is _Ryuga,_ after all).

The puzzles of Tamotsu seem to have merely multiplied with his explorations of his guardian's house, rather than be solved at all. Ryuga rests his head against the back of the sofa and watches the light progress across the ceiling as the sun continues to set, sifting through all of the things he has just found and trying to work out how the pieces slot together.

He doesn't really notice when he drifts into dreams of strange mountains and golden suns, wrapped in the safety of his old white coat, his coronet clasped possessively in one hand.


	4. Welcome

**Welcome**

_It is the most extraordinary sensation he has ever experienced, and that is saying a lot. It is like fire, but it doesn't burn. It is like ice, but it doesn't freeze. It runs through his veins as liquid light, banishing darkness and sending the force of falling stars hurtling around his body. He is being pulled, but he cannot tell from where, or even in which direction he is travelling. It is not flying, but he knows there is no ground beneath his feet. Something else in in complete control, and yet he somehow doesn't mind. This is not a battle. This is not a war. This isn't even a surrender. This is..._

"Oh, he's been awake for several days now, but I only let him up today. You know what he's like – he'd push himself so hard that he'd just end up taking even longer to recover if I didn't force him to take it slowly."

The voice of his guardian pulls him out of the dream, much to Ryuga's disappointment. To his mild surprise, he is still on the sofa, his white jacket now tangled around him rather uncomfortably. Well, that'll teach him to try using it as a blanket. Outside the window, it is pitch black – he must have been asleep for several hours.

"I see you've been exploring, Ryuga," Tamotsu says from somewhere above his head, and Ryuga opens his eyes to see that his guardian is not alone. There is another man with him, his hair as wild and spiky as Ryuga's own, but instead of the white that Ryuga shares with his guardian, it is deep, royal blue. One section flops over his left eye, but doesn't quite hide it.

"This is one of our neighbours," Tamotsu is saying as Ryuga drags his attention away from this newcomer's eyes – such a terrible, piercing blue they are, as if they are staring right through him – and focuses instead on his guardian. "Ryuga, meet Gingka. Gingka, meet Ryuga."

Ryuga blinks. "Gingka?" he splutters, not sure if this is still a dream or whether his guardian is trying to mess with his head. This man looks _nothing_ like the Gingka he knows, from the dark blue hair to the clothes he is wearing. In fact, the only thing that might have recalled the powerful red-head Ryuga knows is the man's expression, an almost cocky grin that sparkles through the man's eyes.

"Hey, kid," the man – Gingka, Ryuga supposes he must call him – says, and Ryuga shudders at the name he has always hated. "This guy lookin' after you properly, right?" He tosses his head, revealing a set of three pale-blue ribbons knotted into the hair at the nape of his neck. They are long and thin, and seem to move in defiance of physics, stirring without the slightest breath of wind and twisting into curious shapes. Ryuga has never trusted things that move without some evidence of how or why, so regardless of how relaxed Tamotsu seems to be he finds himself tensing up, a tremor running like cold water down his spine. He makes no reply to the man's question, leaving Tamotsu to roll his eyes and shake his head.

"Ryuga hasn't met anyone else yet," he says sternly. "Don't confuse him."

Gingka – no, this is utterly ridiculous, Ryuga decides, so from now on he will have to be Other Gingka – looks puzzled. "You lettin' him meet us one at a time, then?"

"Something like that," Tamotsu says, and Ryuga catches a strange sort of strain in his voice, as if he is becoming far more guarded. "Ryuga, Gingka lives just around the corner – his garden backs onto ours. You've seen the garden, haven't you?"

Ryuga nods, unable to think of anything sensible to say. It is clear that Tamotsu knows just what he's been up to. Other Gingka just grins again.

"Tamotsu's an old friend of mine, he won't hurt you," he says, but then his expression softens a little into something Ryuga can't recognise. "Not when he's saved you so many times."

At this, Ryuga gives up trying to understand, because Other Gingka clearly likes talking in riddles that Ryuga's sleep-muddled brain cannot be bothered to decode. He's also vaguely irritated by Other Gingka's accent.

"Anyway, Tamotsu just brought me over to say hi to you, in case you thought you were livin' in some kinda ghost town," Other Gingka continues. "You'll like it here, I promise. You'll just hafta get used to the idea of it." He holds out his hand. "I'll see you up and about the town soon, right?"

Ryuga shrugs, the only response he can thing of, and doesn't take the man's hand, drawing back a little into the cushions of the sofa to get away from this very, very strange person.

"Aw, and there was me thinkin' he couldn't be scared," Other Gingka laughs, withdrawing his hand and putting it behind his head in a way which reminds Ryuga so forcefully of the first Gingka that for a second he reconsiders his original analysis. Then he registers what Other Gingka just said.

"I'm not scared," Ryuga snaps, eyes flashing dangerously even though he knows that in this state he can't do anything. "You're just confusing."

Tamotsu sighs. "Gingka, that's enough. He only got up today for the first time and now he has to deal with you being daft? Didn't you say you had some plans for this evening?"

The words have an immediate effect on the blue-haired man. "Oh, yeah – a dinner date!" he exclaims. "She'll definitely come this time, I'll make sure of it!"

Ryuga just notices his guardian rolling his eyes before the white-haired man speaks again. "What is it now, Gingka, the fifteenth time you've asked her? Give up, why don't you."

"Nah, she'll fall for me eventually," Other Gingka laughs. "You'll see!" And to Ryuga surprise, he waves and heads for the door. "Bye, Ryuga!"

"Sorry about that," Tamotsu says quietly as he makes to follow Other Gingka. "Gingka can be a bit excitable about meeting new people, and he's never one for being subtle. I'll be back in a minute – hang on."

He leaves the room and closes the door behind him, allowing Ryuga to breathe properly for what feels like the first time since he opened his eyes. Other Gingka is as loud as Ryuga's Gingka, though thankfully seems to have less energy. What a strange place he is in.

"He's not exactly responsive, is he?" he hears Other Gingka mutter from the hallway. "I thought you said he was getting better."

"You were confusing him," Tamotsu's voice floats through the wood of the door. "Anyone would be quiet when he doesn't know what on earth you're talking about."

"How? You... you mean you haven't told him?"

"Ryuga still doesn't know where he is or what really happened to him." Tamotsu speaks quietly, but Ryuga can still pick out the words. "He's not strong enough yet."

Other Gingka sighs. "You'll have to tell him sometime, El."

"It's been years since you called me that." If Ryuga is not mistaken, Tamotsu sounds almost irritated. "Don't. His hearing's so sharp, I wouldn't be surprised if he's listening to us right now."

Ryuga winces. Oops. So much for that plan. He is about to put his hands over his ears and try to ignore the conversation when Tamotsu speaks again.

"I'll tell him when he's ready. He still doesn't really trust me, and I don't blame him after what he's been through. No matter what, I want him to be safe here - not _feel _safe, _be_ safe, and I'll do anything to keep him from coming to any more harm."

"You already have," Other Gingka murmurs. What a strange thing to say, Ryuga wonders.

"I want to help him, not hurt him." Tamotsu continues as if he hasn't heard the other man. "Saying anything too early could damage him in ways you could never understand."

There is the sound of the front door opening, and any other words are drowned out by the wind that blows outside. Ryuga frowns. Tamotsu is keeping something from him, and that concerns him. But at the same time, after what Tamotsu said just now and considering the love he has already put into repairing Ryuga's coat and coronet without asking for anything at all in return, Ryuga can't help but wonder if in this situation, maybe Tamotsu knows best. He certainly knows _more._

Talking of that... Ryuga pulls himself carefully to his feet. He has had an idea, something that should give him some more clues as to exactly where he is. He makes his cautious way over to the window, leaning on the windowsill and staring up into the dark, cloudless sky. He scans the heavens for the familiar shapes of the constellations, knowing that he can use the stars to navigate by as he has done ever since he began to walk the wilds.

But he can't recognise any of the stars he sees above him out of the window. It is as if the old constellations have been shifted, their patterns changed and warped until he can barely make out the basic shapes of Orion and Crux, let alone the other, vaguer ones.

Where is Sirius? Where is Eltanin? Where is he, that the stars themselves should be different?

For a second he is afraid, a sensation so alien to him that it takes him a moment to understand what it is. But then something in his mind settles. Maybe he is in an unknown place, but the house is warm and comfortable, and if Tamotsu meant him any harm then surely he would have done something long before now rather than helping Ryuga to regain enough strength to be able to leave. Despite his misgivings about Tamotsu's choice of neighbours, Ryuga cannot help but consider his guardian to be worth at least some of his trust.

If Tamotsu is here, then Ryuga will trust him that nothing will happen to hurt him. He is safe here.

He knows that now.


	5. Recover

**Recover**

The house is always quiet – that's the way that his guardian likes it, and that's fine by Ryuga. The grandfather clock sings out the hours between eight in the morning and ten in the evening, but other than that there's no sound, not even music.

The two of them spend their days together, but separate enough for privacy if either of them wants it. Very occasionally Other Gingka will come round, but Ryuga tends to avoid him wherever he can, so he rarely sees anyone but Tamotsu. The stairs stop being such an obstacle after about three weeks, but Ryuga still can't get rid of that limp so he's made a habit of catnapping in his room during the warm afternoons whilst his guardian does whatever he does during those times. It's probably something like writing letters or drawing, because whenever he comes down from his room at about five o'clock, there's the faint scent of wood shavings and ink in the main room. That of course is quickly overpowered by the smell of dinner cooking, but it's always there when Ryuga first walks in, and that is nice.

It is said that familiarity breeds contempt, but it doesn't take Ryuga long to decide that this isn't exactly true. Instead, familiarity breeds _content._ For the first time since he was a very young child, he knows what it feels like to be secure.

At first, he's not sure if he likes it. He can tell from experience that the sudden lapse out of his usual training regime has decreased his strength significantly, even accounting for his losses, and part of him would quite like to get back on the road and return to training. He's meant to be tough and ferocious, the Dragon Emperor in more than just name.

But the other part of him resists. He had grown accustomed to living outside with only his own wits, skills and experience to allow his survival, and whilst it's strange to suddenly be somewhere where he can have a hot bath any time he likes, or where food is readily available in the fridge, it's a welcome change. It's a change to be able to trust Tamotsu, too, to know that the man will not try to use him for his own ends as so many others have done. Tamotsu - and Ryuga honestly struggles to believe this some days - geniunely cares about _him, Ryuga._

With his guardian's excellent cooking (and some of his own experiments) he begins to lose his starved-scarecrow look, as Tamotsu calls it, and he slowly realises that he's smiling more. The day that he wakes up late and wanders into the kitchen at midday looking for breakfast, only to be halted by his guardian's single raised eyebrow, he laughs for the first time in what feels like months. Tamotsu looks shocked.

Within the walls of the house, and even when Tamotsu finally permits him out into the garden, the peace and quiet overwhelms him. It calms him, allows him to relax instead of seeking for danger at every second. It's... almost nice.

He learns to love lying in the hammock in the garden, watching the sky circle overhead, or maybe reading. Much to his surprise, when he finally gets bored enough to try them he discovers that Tamotsu's books are actually very interesting, unlike those dull histories that his tutor had forced him to read all those years ago. He reads them quickly, hungrily, soaking up the information with a relentless desire to find out more, to learn more. He reads of battles where neither side could bear to back down, of loves that were beyond forbidden, of families torn apart by their overlords, of promises broken and yet honoured to the end. Some days, he becomes so absorbed in the stories that he can see the events flashing before his eyes in some great theatrical show that draws him in until the garden is dark and cool, and Tamotsu is standing above him, shaking his shoulder to wake him and trying to hide a smile in the corners of his eyes.

Breakfast is always in the kitchen, no matter what. Lunch is also in the kitchen most of the time, but occasionally Tamotsu decides to eat outside on the lawn on particularly lovely days, and once he even turned it into a miniature picnic, complete with basket and blanket. Dinner can be anywhere (and anything) from a sandwich on a plastic plate in Ryuga's own room to a three-course meal on the white-clothed table in the dining room with the silverware, though normally that is only if Other Gingka has come round.

When Ryuga considers this, he wonders how so many of his meals have turned into a strange and slightly food-obsessed version of Cluedo.

One day, arriving at the table for breakfast, he finds a small package and a note next to his plate, and no sign of his guardian. Puzzled, but rather intrigued by the unexpected gift (it is not his birthday, if he could even remember when that was), Ryuga unfolds the note first. It's a bit of a disappointment – nothing interesting, merely a letter to say that Tamotsu had been called out on emergency business, but would be back for dinner. Lunch is in the fridge, and Tamotsu hopes that Ryuga will have a pleasant day and that he will like the present. Apparently he has been putting the finishing touches to it for a long time now.

Ryuga allows himself a small smile as he puts the note down and drops into the chair, wincing slightly as the movement is a bit too heavy. He's still not completely healed, and part of him wonders in the depths of the night if he ever will be. Waiting for the momentary pain to subside, he pulls the package towards him and weighs it in his hands. It's small, fitting neatly into one hand, and it is surprisingly heavy. An experimental shake results in a sharp rattle, and Ryuga smiles. He has always secretly liked mysteries.

However, with no other clues presenting themselves, and without Tamotsu being there to give him any, if he wants to know what his gift is he will have to unwrap it. Feeling ridiculously child-like and strangely happy (it has been many, many years since he was given a present) Ryuga tugs the pieces of tape away from the paper, and pulls a plain, brown, cardboard box out of the bright wrappings. Well, no more clues there.

The cardboard box is very well taped-up, and Ryuga has to resort to scissors to cut the sticky stuff away. Most of it gets stuck to his fingers anyway, much to his disgust. At least once it's off, though, the box opens easily to reveal what is inside.

The first thing he notices about it is that it's small, smaller than his clenched fist. It's pretty weighty, and the silvery glint from the top of it suggests that it's metal. It's packaged in tissue-paper, so Ryuga quickly tips it out onto his palm to take a closer look.

He loves it instantly.

It's beautifully carved – an absolute masterpiece. He's never seen anything so detailed, not like this. It's not actually silver, though – the majority of it is actually a metallic black that catches the light with silver flashes, with accents of red and blue. Sitting on his hand, it seems to shimmer like a dark flame.

Carefully, as if the magic will be broken with an incautious movement, Ryuga strokes one finger along the carved, curved edge of the strange gift.

Then, like thunder out of a clear sky, he knows it.

He _remembers_ it.

How could he have forgotten? What spell lay on this place that he had neglected his greatest ally and the closest thing he had to a friend?

_How could he have forgotten L-Drago Destructor?_


	6. Reconcile

**Reconcile**

Of all the strange things that have happened to him since he arrived in this house, this is the worst. He can understand the mountains being unfamiliar - after all, it's not as if he has been everywhere in the world. He can understand that there are people with the same name as others he knows, as if that wasn't something pretty obvious anyway.

But he cannot understand how he could have forgotten his blade, or the constellation that used to roar through his mind like a storm of lightning and brilliance and power he could all but taste.

L-Drago had always been with him, _always._ Even before he had first lifted the purple-white blade out of its crystal prison, he had heard the constellation's seductive voice in his head, whispering instructions, directions, encouragements. If L-Drago isn't there, then what is left of him? _Who_ is he, without his dragon?

The thing that scares Ryuga the most, though, is that he actually knows the answer to that question. He is the man he has been for the past however many weeks it has been, living in this house with no thought of his flame-red creature, or of his quest to become the strongest in the world, or even of blading at all. He hasn't even given it a passing thought since he arrived, and that _terrifies_ him.

If he somehow had the power to prevent Ryuga from remembering the driving force behind his life, then who - or _what -_ was Tamotsu?

.

When his guardian walks in, Ryuga is sitting curled up in the armchair, stiff with waiting but seething still.

"I'm leaving," he says, the very first thing that he demands. "I don't belong here. I'm going home."

Tamotsu slowly takes off his coat and folds it over the back of his usual chair. He is looking at the ground, not Ryuga. "You can't," he says softly, and to Ryuga's surprise his voice isn't angry or insulted, but terribly, terribly sad. "It was hard enough for us to get you to here, and that was with Nemesis ripping down the barriers between worlds."

_What?_

Ryuga's hand tightens on the metal blade in his right hand, and the dragons bite into his fingers. The pain grounds him as the world spins. "Be-between worlds?"

Tamotsu raises his head and gives him a pitying look. "You must have realised something was wrong by now," he says. "Why you couldn't recognise the mountains in the distance? Why the stars were different?"

For a second, Ryuga's heart misses a beat – he has never spoken of that to Tamotsu, not that he can remember, however true it is – but then he rallies. He will not be kept here against his will. "I don't care. I don't belong here..." But Tamotsu doesn't answer, his eyes full of a deep, despairing grief. Ryuga glares at him, trying to force a sentence, a _word_ out of him. In the end, though, it is he who continues "I... I _can't _go back?"

"No," Tamotsu says. "I'm sorry, Ryuga. If there was any other way..."

"Then..." He has never known a fear quite like this one. "Then _where am I?_"

Tamotsu's eyes are shining in that strange way that they were when Ryuga first awoke, wide, faceted, full of unearthly fire. "You are in the only place where you could have survived what happened to you. I did whatever I had to do in order to save your life, even at the cost of my own. We are tied together in more ways than you know."

"Who are you?" It's the same question he has asked so many times before, but this time there is something else behind it, a desperation, a pleading that is born from complete confusion and an entirely unwelcome feeling of terror. "Please, just tell me who you are."

"You know who I am, Ryuga," Tamotsu says quietly. "You've known from the beginning. You called to me, and I drew you through to here."

"I never called you or anyone else..." Ryuga begins, but Tamotsu shakes his head.

"Just one time, you called out to something – some_one._ You reached out to them, in the hopes that you were not alone. I was that someone, and when you called me by name at the last I was able to find you once more. I bound your failing strength to my own, so that you would become one of us, so that your life would be spared from Armageddon, just as I promised you so long ago that I would never abandon you, not even to death."

"I don't..."

"I have always been with you, Ryuga. _Always._"

And then Ryuga understands, and it feels like his heart is breaking and bursting and singing all at once, overflowing with joy and sorrow and something inexplicable that can have no name in any language of the world.

"L-Drago," he whispers, not even noticing the stinging in his eyes as he stares at the tall man who was his loyal, beautiful constellation for so long, who has stayed with him through everything, and who has finally fulfilled his promise and brought him through the worlds to where he – and now Ryuga himself – calls home.


	7. Epilogue - At Peace

**Epilogue: At Peace**

It has been a long time since Ryuga found out that his guardian was none other than his own constellation. He's not sure how long exactly – maybe a year or three. It doesn't matter much to him any more. Time has very little meaning now.

Tamotsu - L-Drago - told him over the course of a few days exactly how it was that Ryuga had ended up in this strange world where constellations walked as humans. When Nemesis had awoken the Black Sun and Rago had attacked with his special Armageddon move, it had weakened the barriers that split the world Ryuga had once lived in from the one in which he now dwelt. Feeling his blader's heart and spirit vanishing into the darkness, L-Drago had done what should have been impossible and tied Ryuga's spirit to his own in a desperate attempt to save him, dragging him across the stars to end up safe in this peaceful house, close to death but still fighting to live.

In doing so, Ryuga was tied to the constellation, his strength and will merging with L-Drago's power for one final, permanent time. Those who call upon the Dragon now will claim Ryuga's prowess as well. In a strange way, he thinks, this is what he had wanted when he first owned Lightning L-Drago - a world where he and his beast ruled supreme, together, forever.

The only difference is that here, he does not rule. He does not need to. Tamotsu is still his guardian, and Ryuga trusts him to keep him safe. He has no intention of leaving this house or even this village, not yet. Maybe one day in the future he will journey towards the distant mountains, but for now this small, quiet place is all he needs. He is at peace.

The days pass by like the leaves blown from the autumn trees. Rains fall, the sun shines, and Ryuga feels himself getting stronger by the day, his injuries swiftly becoming a thing of the past. It's not long after he manages to beat his fleet-footed guardian in a race to the end of the road that he begins to ask about doing something more. It's not as if he can blade here, without any opponent and without L-Drago's power in the bey, and it's not as if he wants to either. Gaining power here will mean nothing – he _is_ the strongest blader here, because he's the _only_ blader. And whilst he will never be completely comfortable with this immortal peace, he is beginning to see the good side of it. It's... restful.

The job Tamotsu gives him is to clear up their massive garden. If he can manage that, he'll be in as good a physical shape as ever he was in his previous world. So most of Ryuga's days are spent digging up flowerbeds at the far end of the garden which have long been covered by weeds, arguing with the ancient lawnmower, and carrying large stones from one side of the lawn to the other to create a sun-bathing spot for the little lizards that make their home by the hedge. Of course, most of the time he just ends up making a lot of mess, because he's always been a fighter, not a gardener, but Tamotsu just laughs at him and tells him to go upstairs and wash, and that they'll fix it tomorrow. There's no hurry, not really. It's just a project.

Ever since Ryuga learned the truth, Tamotsu has allowed him to meet more and more of the other constellations who live nearby. Ryuga is not surprised to discover that Other Gingka is none other than Pegasus himself, their most frequent visitor. He might not be as lively as his namesake, but Tamotsu and Ryuga often find themselves sharing an exasperated look as Pegasus explains how yet another of his plans to get the pretty, purple-haired Virgo to go to dinner with him has fallen through. After all, anyone with half an eye can see that Virgo has her sights set on the rakish but terribly handsome Orion, whilst it is the quiet, unassuming Gasher who follows Pegasus with her gaze.

Much to Ryuga's surprise, Libra turns out to be a very tall, green-haired woman, while Aquarius has more muscles than a man really should and wears a bandanna. L-Drago doesn't like him very much, but Ryuga does. He tells lots of very silly stories about L-Drago, for one thing. Ryuga never knew that his constellation liked raspberry jam so much, though it certainly explains a few things. Libra is accompanied most places by Aquarius' devastatingly beautiful younger brother Aquila, and Ryuga does _not_ like him. At all. Something about the constellation's sharp, dark, disapproving eyes make him feel horribly small, so he avoids the black-haired young man wherever possible.

One day, a visitor appears on their doorstep out of the blue. His eyes gleam with sharp gold, and his blonde hair tumbles past his shoulders. Ryuga knows him instantly, without needing any introductions from Tamotsu. He bows automatically and welcomes Sagittario into their house, trying and failing to hide his smile. It is nearly midnight before the representation of the Archer leaves, along with a murmured promise in the hall, out of earshot of L-Drago, that he will do whatever he can for Kenta.

So the days pass and the leaves fall, and Ryuga grows – but not much. He remains here, as ageless and timeless as the constellation that saved him in so many ways. Occasionally he feels a tug at some place deep at the heart of him, and looks up at Tamotsu to see the other nod _yes._ _Someone is using our strength._

_Their_ strength. Together now, bound as one forever. Tamotsu tells him that once L-Drago's blade disappeared from the world, all of his strength dissipated between those who held the Star Fragments. Most of it, naturally, has been _given,_ and so is stronger there, but the other eight still hold fractions – the other eight and one more, one who is so very special.

Ryuga can never tell who it is who calls on them, but L-Drago can. Normally, it is Kenta, challenging Gingka, for he has the greater part of their combined power and so that is only fair. Once, to Tamotsu's amusement, it was Gingka challenging Kenta! But Ryuga always hopes for the days when L-Drago looks up at him with shining eyes and says _It is Ryuto._

Ryuga dreams, sometimes, of the others – the ones left behind on that dark day. Some nights it is green-haired Kenta standing strong against some opponent, his tall blade holding out against any attack, or Gingka wandering through the lands, just as Ryuga himself once did. Other times it might be Tsubasa leaning over a table of papers, concentrating, only to look up with that strangely familiar smile of his as the door opens, or Kyouya wading through the thick black mud of an Egyptian river, calling out to someone as he goes. They do not need him any more, to threaten them into becoming stronger, or to drag them kicking and screaming out of the Darkness by the scruffs of their necks. He is needed here instead.

Once, he dreams of Yuu, head thrown back and green eyes closed in delight as he dances in the light of Libra's song, at peace with his blade, his heart and the world.

That is enough for him.

* * *

_So what did you think of this style/idea/sort of thing? Feedback much appreciated!_

_For those wishing to hear the music of Libra that Yuu is dancing to, it's a little like this (from about 2.56 onwards)_

_/watch?v=x6fX4wWR58Y _

_And naturally, the title of that piece says more than it seems._

___To a couple of you I gave the clue that Tamotsu's name meant more than it seemed – Tamotsu literally means "protect" or, if you like, "Guardian"._ Gingka, on the other hand, means "galaxy", a very suitable name for the constellation of Pegasus, even if it's technically Cosmic Pegasus.  



End file.
